


just can't get enough

by keytniss



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gentle Kissing, Pining, chloé is a mess as always, i love them, luka is a kind boy as always, not as angsty as my other fics though, this feels more like a character study than an actual fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:34:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21936043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keytniss/pseuds/keytniss
Summary: “What was that?”It took Chloé Bourgeois a moment to understand what the voice was asking because she was too focused on the pink, thin and precise lips it'd come from."What was what?"As she asked the question, though, she immediately became aware of what she'd just done, why her lips tasted like blueberries, why her vision was blurred as if she had just woken up.She'd never been so close to Luka Couffaine before. And, just now, she'd kissed him."You kissed me," he said, reading her thoughts.
Relationships: Chloé Bourgeois/Luka Couffaine
Comments: 9
Kudos: 115





	just can't get enough

**Author's Note:**

> oh this is SO not my best work. this fic should be at least 5k words longer but i just needed to get it out of my system asap. it's my coming out as a lukloe shipper i guess.  
> thank you mari-cheres for helping me with some ideas.
> 
> enjoy!

_i don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you_

* * *

Blue eyes, staring back at her.

Blue hair right above the eyes, so long and soft, covering a small forehead and almost reaching strong cheekbones.

Broad shoulders, where her right hand lay.

A calloused yet soft hand holding her right one.

And then a voice, smooth and hoarse, so close to her ears that it almost made her shiver.

“What was that?”

It took Chloé Bourgeois a moment to understand what the voice was asking because she was too focused on the pink, thin and precise lips it'd come from. 

"What was what?"

As she asked the question, though, she immediately became aware of what she'd just done, why her lips tasted like blueberries, why her vision was blurred as if she had just woken up.

They were dancing to the rhythm of the slow ballad, too far for anyone to see them. She could see everyone from there, but she doubted she was visible among the trees, darkness offering all the protection she needed.

She'd never been so close to Luka Couffaine before. And, just now, she'd kissed him.

"You kissed me," he said, reading her thoughts.

Though Luka was known for his talent as a singer, no one could deny he was a pretty good dancer too. And maybe an even better kisser. 

Chloé looked away, rolling her eyes. 

"Did I?"

She could feel that his careful, curious eyes were analyzing her. He didn’t seem surprised, just a bit confused — and more about her motivations to kiss him than about the fact that she did.

“You did.”

Chloé put some distance between them, her hand still on his shoulder. She tried to straighten her back and neck to feel taller than she actually was, shaking her head so her hair was all behind her shoulders.

“I don’t recall.”

He raised one eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips.

He wasn't making fun of her, would never. She could feel, however, as he removed his hand from her upper back, stopping the dance, that he found her terribly fake dignified posture simply too funny.

"I think you do."

She winced.

From what she’d heard of him, the guy was too nice and honest. She knew he would not threaten her, or hold her accountable in any way, much less _blackmail_ her. Luka had been there for Adrien even when Adrien was the only obstacle between him and Marinette, even when helping him meant he’d lose his girlfriend.

But, because he was so honest, he wouldn’t forget. He wouldn’t lie and probably couldn’t pretend nothing happened, so Chloé did the only thing she could do. She threatened him.

“Don’t talk to me, and don’t you dare tell anyone about this, you creep,” she said, finger pointed at his face, an unconvincing scowl hiding how satisfied she felt with that kiss.

Luka didn’t move or try to ask any questions as the blonde left, high heels falling apart, feet getting tangled with the trees.

* * *

Ever since he’d started hanging out with other people in her class, it got more and more difficult not to pay attention to Juleka’s brother and his talents. Chloé would see him with Rose and Juleka all the time, then with Dupain-Cheng, and then even with Adrien. It’s like his face kept following her, horrifying her as she found herself hoping he’d come to one of Adrien’s secret parties or that Juleka would invite him to one of the school stupid events.

But when the chance to dance with him presented itself, she went for it. It was another of Alya’s nonsensical gatherings — which she knew she’d only been invited to because Adrien probably forced everyone else to accept her — and people were randomly paired up. Of course, the _random_ pairings seemed too convenient. Marinette and Adrien together? That had to be one of Alya’s annoying plots.

Whatever. She waited. See, she was kind of curious to see who she would get, though she would never admit so. And when it was revealed that Luka was her partner for the night, he hadn’t reacted as bad as anyone else would upon being paired up with her. In fact, he even smiled as she complained about the tacky decoration and useless air conditioning.

He always smiled. In a contained way, but he smiled.

“You wanna go outside?” he suggested.

“Whatever,” she said, but pulled him with her arm locked around his.

They talked. Mostly, she complained and he listened. And, wow, did she find him _disgustingly_ cute as he listened and asked her for a dance. Did that scare her.

Because Chloé deserved models, rich guys with expensive suits, sons of CEOs of big companies, not... him. That’s what her mom would want for her… Not a musician who wore cheap, thrift-store outfits, lived on a boat and, well, dated Marinette Dupain-Cheng for a whole year. Not him and his old custom guitar, horribly stylish black-painted nails, and cheap pleasant-smelling perfume, which she could feel so well as they danced, their faces getting closer and closer.

Luka Couffaine clearly, _clearly_ had terrible taste. Because of that, she could never want him. Because of that, he’d never look at Chloé Bourgeois the way she _wanted_ him to. 

Or at least that’s what she told herself.

* * *

That kiss had been ingrained into her mind.

She didn’t know why. Perhaps it was the way he had leaned toward her when he realized her half-open eyelids. Perhaps it was the way his touch was so smooth, carrying her with gentleness as they danced. Perhaps it was because he didn’t seem to judge her for her past like everyone else.

But the next time she saw him, he did what she’d asked him to, which frustrated her because _of course_ he’d be nice enough to comply: he acted completely normal.

“Hi, Chloé,” he said, like always, though she never answered him.

Always so fucking _nice_. That was infuriating.

She had a clear effect on everyone else but him. Everyone else seemed to hate her, or love her, or try to understand her. They’d complain when she arrived, whisper when she didn’t, and unknowingly give her exactly what she wanted: attention.

Not him, anyway. At least not unless she was mean to one of his friends, which she was avoiding to do after so many akumatizations.

She tried to pretend her being nicer had no correlation with the attention Luka could possibly give her.

Luka’s introspection contrasted too much with her need to be seen, heard, loved and hated. And that’s probably why she felt so attracted to him anyway.

She wouldn’t let herself go unnoticed. Not this time, not after they’d shared a secret.

For the first time, she answered.

“Hi, _Couffaine_.”

He raised both eyebrows.

She simply smirked.

* * *

  
  


“Listen, I’m not inviting you to my dad’s hotel. Fat chance.”

Two weeks later, Chloé found herself outside her high school, making her driver wait as Juleka tried to come up with a meeting time for their group project and Chloé rejected every single option, waiting for the right one.

“Well, I guess...” Juleka touched her bangs, pursing her lips like she wasn’t too fond of what she was about to suggest but couldn’t think of anything else. She was so similar to her brother, tall and quiet and gorgeous, that Chloé couldn’t help but imagine them together, growing up, playing music, dying their hair. “I guess you could come to my place?”

Chloé tried hard not to smile. It was too easy. All she had to do was make sure Sabrina paired up with Rose and suddenly Juleka was free to be her partner.

But did she actually want that? Did she want to face Luka and his insistent eyes again? What would she tell him? How would her mom react if she ever found out?

How would he even react to her presence in his home, somewhere he couldn’t so easily avoid her like she’d asked him to?

When she didn’t answer, Juleka continued.

“Unless you’d rather stay here at the school until later or...”

“No,” she said, touching Juleka’s arm in an almost too desperate way. When both stared down at Chloé’s hand, she removed it with disgust. “Ugh. School is lame, we’re not staying here. Your little boat is ok.”

She grabbed her purse, ignoring whatever else Juleka Couffaine had to say.

“See you tomorrow.”

* * *

That was, of course, only the first time she’d come to their house.

Then, the first few times after that, she’d find excuses — a lost ring, a part of the project that she didn’t know how to finish, some very important gossip that she needed to tell Juleka as soon as possible — but when Mrs. Couffaine stopped welcoming Chloé like she was a simple visitor and let the girl in whenever she wanted, Chloé made that a habit.

She would come, sit by Luka’s bed, wait for Juleka to leave to Rose’s house, and then talk to him about her life, ask him about his new songs, complain about her parents. She wouldn’t say anything bad about Dupain-Cheng and her minions — she knew Luka still cared, and the thought of annoying him made her apprehensive for some reason — but she still found ways to complain about school.

“You’re very funny,” he said one time after she described how the wrong shade of yellow could ruin a whole outfit.

“Of course I am funny,” she said, petulant. “I am the funniest.”

That only made Luka laugh more.

She didn’t care that he was laughing at her, and not exactly with her. As long as his smile kept her heart fluttering like that, it was ok.

Because for the first time, she didn’t care just about any kind of attention. She wanted the nicer one that came with compliments, small laughs and afternoons spent on a boat.

She wanted Luka’s attention. Only that could ever be enough.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It didn’t take long for conversations to get deeper.

She didn’t usually talk about her feelings: she’d tried therapy before but it seemed like her mother needed it more than she did. Being completely honest with a stranger felt like a trap, and that made every single session useless as all therapists talked to her mom and recommended group therapy. It was _utterly_ useless.

Her parents had fucked up her head like that with such a chaotic divorce, and it was their responsibility to fix themselves before they tried to fix her.

With Luka, however, she found herself going deeper and deeper into touchy subjects. It helped, of course, that he’d write melodies based on what she told him. It helped that he’d fill the silence with random notes as if he was thanking her for trusting him with all that.

It helped that he decided to open up, too.

“I cannot imagine how different my life would’ve been if they’d been together, you know? It annoys me that they messed me up so fucking bad. Ugh.”

She’d been imagining a different future that afternoon, discussing everything that went wrong in her life.

“Believe me, I _know_.”

That surprised Chloé. She’d never imagined Luka would have any problems with his parents or, more specifically, with his mom.

“You have problems with your dad?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know who he is. And mom won’t tell us anything. I don’t care that much for myself, but Juleka...”

Chloé saw that in the way Luka treated Juleka almost as a paternal figure would: with care and a sense of responsibility too complicated for a normal big brother. Even in the way he talked about her, asking questions about how she was doing in school that he knew only Chloé would answer honestly.

The bond between the Couffaine siblings was adorable, really, though she’d never admit. It almost made her want to have siblings too.

“I think she’s doing fine.”

When he didn’t answer, she touched his chin, forcing him to look at her.

She wasn’t usually nice, she _couldn’t_ be nice, for Christ’s sake. Being nice meant people thought they could do whatever they wanted with her, something her mom despised.

But Luka’s sad eyes… they were too hard to ignore. “I’m telling you, she’s fine. She’s lucky to have you, you know.”

That caught Luka by surprise, but he quickly recovered.

“You think so?”

She nodded.

And that was the second time they kissed.

* * *

  
  


After that, kissing became more and more common.

Chloé didn’t know how to start, then suddenly she didn’t know how to stop. She moved so easily between his arms, he moved so easily between her hands, soft hair getting softer as she grabbed it.

For some reason, Juleka seemed to be less and less present in their room when she knew Chloé was coming. She wondered if Luka had talked to her, or if the girl had sensed it herself.

They didn’t go too far — both were satisfied with just kissing and talking — but she could still feel it, the heat, something in her body that craved for just a little more.

One day, when Chloé got a call from her dad and had to lie about where she was, she was reminded of the conditions of what they were doing.

“Don’t tell anyone. You didn’t tell anyone, right?”

“I won’t. I didn’t. I told you.”

She bit her lip. Something in that answer was completely unsatisfactory, but she didn’t want to think too much about it.

“Ok. You better not.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Your mom doesn’t care?”

She’d asked one afternoon when she heard Mrs. Couffaine talking on the phone, just outside the door.

Luka just shook his head. He was playing with his ukulele, a gift he’d gotten from Chloé, and was completely absorbed in its strings.

“I don’t think so.”

“And why is that? My dad would like, completely freak out if I brought you… _any_ guys to my room.”

It took him a long time to answer. She later realized he didn’t know how to answer.

“She thinks it’s good.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. She thinks I’m getting over Marinette.”

And that it was, that name again. He never talked about Marinette, but she knew that relationship had been a big part of his life.

She snickered.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He wouldn’t pressure her into talking, so she let out a loud sigh.

His politeness could be so aggravating sometimes.

“Chloé, I know you want to say something.”

“Aren’t you?”

He stopped playing, then looked confused at her.

“What?”

“Getting over Marinette?”

Jesus, why did he have to be _so hard to read_. The way he looked at her made her feel like his answer would tell more about her than about him.

“I guess,” he finally said. “I don’t think about her as much.”

Chloé stayed quiet. Luka played with his ukulele a little more, then stopped.

“I know something is bothering you.”

“It’s just… nice. Nice to find out that I’m being used as a rebound.”

He raised both eyebrows, confused, then shook his head, just grasping the meaning of her words.

“That’s not what I meant at all.”

“You’re using me to get over Dupain-Cheng, Couffaine.”

“That’s… not true.”

“It is.”

“I’m sorry. That’s really not what I meant.”

He remained so calm that it only exasperated her more.

“You probably wouldn’t even look at me if you didn’t need someone to replace her in your heart or bed or whatever.”

As the flow of words kept going faster and faster, she knew she was going too far.

But Luka waited. He analyzed what she’d just said and, instead of attacking her, he tried to bring logical arguments.

“Chloé, _you’re_ the one who’s embarrassed to be seen with me.”

His tone wasn’t accusatory. It was a normal fact, one he’d accepted from the very beginning.

Chloé didn’t take that so easily. She stood up.

“What?! I’m not _embarrassed_.”

“You are. You think I’m not on your level,” he started playing with his ukulele again, a slow melody tracing his words. “You think you could do better.”

She waited as the melody got louder, stronger, faster. Her heart couldn’t beat faster. Containing her feelings for him had been hard, but watching them being confronted was harder.

When he finally looked up again, she knew there was no way she could lie. She didn’t really think that, but her mom did, and that was close enough.

“And doesn’t that hurt you?”

She almost wanted his answer to be yes. Instead, he just shook his head.

“That’s not how I see relationships. I don’t think I have to be on someone’s level to deserve them. We just have to… appreciate and understand each other.”

Another unsatisfactory yet mature answer. Nothing she wouldn’t expect from him.

She nodded.

“You’re right.” She sat on the bed right beside him, laying her head on his shoulder as he kept playing the same song.

“I am?”

His fingers moved even slower than before, and eventually, he raised his arm and put it around her shoulders.

“Yeah,” she said as she interlocked her fingers with him. “This isn’t a relationship at all.”

* * *

  
  


“How _dare_ you tell everyone we’re dating?”

Chloé had stormed inside the boat without notice. Anarka had tried to stop her, following the girl inside her children’s room. When she noticed the nature of the subject, however, she mouthed “I’m leaving” to Luka and closed the door behind her.

“What do you mean?”

Luka didn’t stand up. He kept playing with his guitar.

“You’re mad at me for what I said yesterday. So you told everyone we’re dating.”

He frowned.

“Chloé, you know I’d never do that.”

“Dupain-Cheng, fucking _Dupain-Cheng_ came to talk to me and ask how you’re doing.”

There was a spark of surprise in his eyes. Chloé felt like vomiting.

“You _did_ tell them.”

“What? No. I’m just surprised Marinette talked to you. She wouldn't talk to you if she still hated you. Maybe...”

She disregarded his words completely. 

“I don't care what Dupain-Cheng thinks, whatever. Your sister told them we're dating."

“Chloé, maybe…" He shook his head. "Maybe people just saw you leaving or something,” then, in a smaller voice, eyes now on his guitar, “you come here quite often after all.”

She opened her mouth in shock.

“What the hell?”

“I know you’re upset. I’m not fighting you.”

“You’re so... infuriating.”

She threw her fancy white bag on the bed so he’d look at her.

“Did you hear me? You’re annoying. You annoy me to hell and I really cannot understand you and your stupid little smiles. You’re a basic introvert who can’t get over his ex and doesn’t have any friends.”

When that didn’t seem to make any effect — in fact, Luka seemed to find the whole thing slightly funny — she added a lie.

“And also…. You’re a _terrible_ kisser. I bet Kim would do a much better job.”

He stared at her. That made her uncomfortable, because she was clearly nervous, her chest rising too fast, her fingers fixing messy strands of hair.

And then, after long deliberation, he finally spoke.

“Yet you don’t... seem to get enough of me.”

There was a beat. He had that small, mysterious smile that she could never fully comprehend, and his long, calloused fingers were still busy with the guitar. Chloé’s eyebrows arched, a that’s-not-funny-at-all laugh escaping her lips.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just telling you what I think. Sorry.”

“And what makes you think that? You’re delusional. Really. Utterly delusional.”

“I don’t think you’d want to hear that.”

“ _Tell me._ ”

Chloé didn’t think he’d answer, but suddenly Luka was standing up, holding his guitar with only one arm, pacing around the small room.

“Ok then. First of all: you keep coming back. It’s so noticeable that you do because my sister has been spending a lot of time with Rose lately, even more than she used to. And I think you keep coming back because you like my music, my family’s boat, and... even my sister. You like that my mom calls you ‘miss,’ though she’s making fun of you.” He paused. Chloé was terrified, so terrified that she didn’t dare say anything, because she knew her voice would probably have a texture similar to jelly, too inconsistent to be taken seriously. “You like listening to my songs. You like that I will let you complain about your problems and that I would never judge you for it. You like the fact that I let you play with my hair and pretend not to notice. You like that I kiss you.” Then he continued, his voice stronger, eyebrows coming together, realizing something as he spoke those words aloud. “You like... me.”

Chloé’s hands were shaking. She tried to avoid him, eyes focusing on literally anything else in that small room. 

“You’re... so full of yourself.”

He got closer, standing tall right in front of her.

“Tell me I’m lying.”

“That’s ridiculous. Absurdly, utterly ridiculous. I’d never, ever, fall in love with you.”

He looked almost surprised when her eyes locked on him again. 

“Never.”

He smiled. A full smile this time. It came to him, all at once.

“Just face the music, Chloé. You can’t get enough of me.”

He raised his hand that wasn’t holding the guitar, touching her cheek with his thumb. She leaned on it.

“Does the thought of liking me disgust you that much?”

“Yes.”

Luka stopped the movement with his thumb. That was the first time Luka had demonstrated pain in front of her.

It was the first time that she felt the need to apologize, too.

“No,” she said, holding his hand on her face. “I’m s... I didn’t mean that.”

“So you’d rather keep this a secret?”

“It isn’t… It isn’t about anyone else. I don’t care what _other_ people think.”

A lie, but not so far from the truth. He pursed his lips.

“What do you care about, then?”

She closed her eyes.

“My mom.”

He smelled so good, and his hand felt so good caressing her face. She wanted to stay like that forever.

“She dislikes me for everything I do. I didn’t want to give her any other reason to be disappointed.”

As she said that, however, she realized she didn’t care as much anymore. For real, why had she wanted to impress her mother in the first place, when this felt so much better?

Perhaps she was just using that as an excuse. Because perfectly nice Luka Couffaine couldn’t seriously like her the way she liked him, couldn’t seriously see how much she’d changed despite what everyone else thought.

She opened her eyes. Sincerity, which she’d learned from him, flew easily through her lips.

“But I’m ready to try. If you… if you feel the same way.”

If that surprised him, he didn’t say anything. He just brought her closer in a hug.

“If that’s what you want, then we can definitely do it.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m ready when you are.”

She smiled. They stayed like that for a few minutes.

Then, she said, “I’m ready now.”

* * *

  
  


Next thing she knew, they were walking in the streets of Paris together for the first time, holding hands as they’d never done before outside his room. They spent their whole day together, trying to pretend they didn’t notice the shocked look of classmates or the way they would carefully raise her phones and try to take a picture of the newest, most unexpected couple they’d ever seen.

But Luka didn’t mind. He hugged her, kissed her cheeks and forehead multiple times, fixed her hair so he could see her face more clearly in the sun.

And Chloé neither. She held hands, gave him small kisses, interlocked fingers when he had his arm around her shoulders. She smiled at him so he’d show her his smile, too, and nothing could make her feel that satisfied.

In the future, probably closer than she expected, she’d be forced to confront all of that. Her mom would know sooner or later. Her dad wouldn’t know how to react. And she and Luka… well, they still had to talk about their feelings.

For now, however, she’d let it last. She tried to care less about her makeup and more about the way Luka looked at the world like he was seeing more than she ever could. Perfect blue eyes, perfect blue hair, perfect hands. All hers, at least for now.

And she just couldn’t get enough of him.

**Author's Note:**

> leave kudos/comments if you liked it!!! and follow me on twitter (@keytniss) too :p


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